Memories
by blurredfrenzy
Summary: Fate is a twisted thing, and what we forget can come back to haunt us.


**Memories**

Boots kicked up dust as he stumbled down the path. His armour weighed heavily on his rotting shoulders. The setting sun failed to reflect off the once shining gold ring around his finger. Arvus looked ahead, gazing at the village at the base of the mountain path. Several houses of stone and wood that had fallen into disrepair formed the settlement, built upon the mesa which jutted from the mountainside. He carried on towards his destination, desperately hoping he could find something, anything, that he could use on his journey. He hadn't been walking for 10 minutes before he reached the base of the path, leaving the mountain and entering the village. But something was wrong. He wasn't alone.

A clanging noise to his left sent him reaching for his sword, turning to face the creature. A hollow bashed its armoured boot against a rock as it dragged itself towards him, loosely holding a rusty axe. Arvus moved closer, stabbing forwards with his longsword. Rotting cloth parted alongside green flesh in a spray of red, the hollow staggering back and collapsing. Arvus quickly scanned the area, making sure he was alone. All quiet.

He made his way towards the nearest house, the largest, and carefully positioned himself in front of the door. He couldn't hear anything inside so he raised his right leg, kicking beside the handle. The door swung open, slamming against the stone interior. He listened again, but still there was no sound. Satisfied he was alone, Arvus made his way inside. As he examined the rough stone walls the feeling of unease returned to him. He tried to shake it off but if he'd learnt one thing during the undead outbreak it was to trust his instinct. Something didn't feel right, and he wasn't going to stick around to see what it was. He turned for the door when something caught his eye. A small stone statue, about the size of his hand, rested on a dusty shelf. He was transfixed, unable to move, as he felt something. A longing. A joy, and yet, a sadness. Like he lost something a long time ago. Arvus moved closer to the statue, lifting it from the shelf amidst a cloud of dust and displaced cobwebs. The statue was of a figure with a great beard. Atop his head rested a crown of 4 long, thin spikes. Unable to remove his eyes from it Arvus could hear something. Someone talking.

"And the dragons were no more, the end"

A calm voice, masculine yet caring. He felt warmth around him as if he were in a bed, covers pulled up. And that voice. So soothing.

Arvus broke from his trance, shaking his head and putting the statue down. He looked out across the mesa through the open door, telling himself to go. But something drew him in, gently holding him back. He closed the door and sheathed his sword, slowly making his way towards an open doorway at the end of the corridor. It lay on the left, preventing him from seeing inside. Ordinarily he would draw his sword but he felt it unnecessary. Something about the house just felt…familiar. Arvus turned through the doorway and came into a moderately sized room. On the right was a wooden table and chairs, on the left a small desk with a globe on it. To his left was a stone fireplace, the chimney reaching up through the ceiling and out of sight. He rested his hand on the chimney. His fingers seemed to shorten, his whole hand shrinking until it resembled a child's. He withdrew it and brought it closer to his face, turning it over and examining it. It was normal again. He could feel the heat from the fireplace, but closer scrutiny found no sources of heat. The fire hadn't burned for a long time. Arvus walked over to the desk, opening the top drawer. He pulled out a wooden toy sword, split in half. He smiled as he saw a little boy handing silver coins to a blacksmith, who handed him some nails in return. He looked at the end; two small nails nestled amongst the splinters. As he slowly put down the sword, Arvus reached for his belt. He gripped something and pulled it out of a tight loop by his hip. The item. His item, there to ward off the madness of hollowing and anchor him to his drifting memories. The rectangular piece of wood, pointy on one end, broken on the other. Amongst the broken splinters were two small holes. Arvus picked up the other half of the sword, pushing it onto his. A perfect fit.

Then the feeling came. The house, its contents. It felt familiar.

Faint noises emanated from below. He could hear chains rattling. Arvus crossed the room and into another corridor, taking a left and arriving at some wooden stairs. A part of him knew where to go. He slowly made his way down the wooden steps, coming into a small room. He stopped, the overwhelming stench of rotting bodies hitting him. At the end of the room was a coffin, a carving in the wood reading 'father'. The sight of it stirred strange feelings, bringing a sense of sorrow. He took a moment to draw his sword, his heart pounding in his chest. To the right was a door. He carefully reached to the handle, opening it quietly and stepping into the room. Limbs were scattered across the floor, heads rested in piles in the corners, and a hulking creature stood with its back to Arvus. It slowly turned, facing him. Its body fat body was scarred with cuts and burns, the skin all but peeled off in some places. It wore various pieces of armour and clothing badly stitched together, rotting and stained red. Chains wrapped around its wrists and chest, as if in some vain attempt to restrain it. Its head was protected by a helmet, the front made of bars resembling a prison, barely hiding a scarred face with a huge, bloody mouth, and malicious white eyes. In each hand it gripped an enormous sickle, the one on the right serrated along the inside, both of which were encrusted with blood. The creature took a step forward, and another, and another, until it reached Arvus. He readied his sword as it swung overhead with a sickle. The sword was forced from his hands and his right shoulder was cut deeply. Arvus gasped and backed away, turning and running. He could hear the creature behind him, eagerly chasing down its next victim, preparing to take his soul. Arvus bolted up the stairs, charging down the corridor and into the living room. He dived behind the desk and drew his knees up to his chest, desperately trying to control his breathing. He could hear the rattling chains and stomping feet before it found the room. Arvus' heart threatened to break free of his chest as he cowered in fear, desperately hoping for something to draw the monster away from him. The sound of chains and heavy footfalls ceased, and he risked a glance. He moved his head just over the top of the desk. The creature stood, staring into his eyes. Then it charged, swinging the sickles horizontally. Arvus leapt from cover as the monster demolished the desk, and ran out the room. He turned right and then left, finding himself at some stairs leading up. He didn't need to look behind, the chains gave it away that the creature was following, and Arvus sprinted up the stairs. At the top was a small wooden table with a vase of flowers. He grabbed it and turned right, coming to a door. The creature was coming up the stairs, but couldn't see him yet. In desperation he threw the vase across the upstairs corridor, in the opposite direction. Then he stood like a statue, watching the monster turn. It had its back to him as it moved towards the vase. Arvus carefully entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

He had to find a way out. But the feeling returned. He looked around the almost empty room, noticing a large bed in the corner. He slowly moved towards it, his heart racing. Something was in the bed. His shaking hand pulled back the covers. A woman climbed out, turning to face him. Arvus removed his helm, letting it drop to the floor. The woman reached out her right hand. The gold ring on her finger, it matched his own. He reached out to meet her hand. Suddenly, he couldn't care less about the monster. All he cared for was the overwhelming joy that this woman's presence brought. He felt a name on his tongue.

"A… Ad… Adriana"

The woman smiled. Her mouth slowly began to open, showing perfect teeth. But something was wrong. The teeth began to decay, moving out of place and ending up crooked. Her pale flesh rotted and split, blood trickling down her features. Her nose collapsed and her eyes whitened, as if stained with some unknown substance. Arvus' joy melted away to terror as her smile fell into a hideous snarl and the hollow lunged forwards, breaking Arvus from his daydream. Unarmed the hollow resorted to sinking her teeth into Arvus' face, biting away his right eye along with chunks of flesh. He screamed in agony as her head moved back, and then returned to take away his nose. A final bite tore away his throat and he lay there, desperately trying to scream. His mind raced with thoughts of fear, desperation, and horrific revelation at the truth of his attacker.

_Adriana, why?_


End file.
